


Lucid Dreams

by ButchBunny



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Magic Fingers, Restraint, Secret Relationship, and also sad, botw was hella rude to zelda, emotional complexity, just a little pervy, mommi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19141534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButchBunny/pseuds/ButchBunny
Summary: An anxious princess seeks calm and release (again?) in the embrace of a champion.





	Lucid Dreams

Zelda stared into the mirror as she combed her hair, finding nothing of interest to focus on. The light from the candles had an odd quality tonight, flickering erratically and casting deep shadows behind her.

It suited her mood: the desert had been unkind to her today. She had long since washed the sand and grime from her body, but the disappointment would take much longer to scrub out. Since the start of her quest to prevent the release of their ancient enemy, she felt every success had dogged her with multiplying failures. For every champion recruited, an entire research team disappeared. For every treasure unearthed, three excavations collapsed. And so it went.

Advisors had told her the cost of life was appropriate for the high stakes of their mission, and the princess was able to ward off the debilitating guilt of sending her subjects to their doom so long as she fulfilled her own obligations. Today, she had set out into the desert to find answers that had long eluded her. There was no drama and no danger, except to the last bit of hope buoying her spirits, but she hadn’t prepared for the pit that opened inside her as she confronted the reality that she would never find her answers here. Each breath grew more laborious as its ravenous centrifuge increased, tugging at her sense of self. Another dead end.

A dark figure, dappled in the candlelight, loomed above her. The warm presence elicited one easy sigh from the princess, whose eyes fluttered shut as strong hands gathered her golden hair and took the comb away. The candles twinkled brightly.

“You wear the world on your shoulders, my princess. It’s time to give them a rest.”

Zelda leaned back on her companion, chief of the Gerudo and lifelong friend. “Oh Urbosa, I wish I knew how.”

Urbosa massaged Zelda’s temples. “It’s no easy task to quiet an uneasy mind,” she agreed. “But you can start by getting in bed.” The princess snapped her eyes open to meet the champion’s mirthful gaze in the mirror. They shared a laugh, and Zelda allowed herself to be led away.

This was a familiar ritual when the princess visited the desert. She slept in the finest suite of the palace, free of handmaids, and the Gerudo chief saw to any of her needs personally. Zelda cherished the time alone with her oldest friend.

“I must see to the watch. Ground yourself, and try to sleep.”

“Will you return to me tonight?” 

Urbosa smiled down at the princess, clearing the stray hairs from her forehead and studying her face for something. “As you wish.”

Zelda got in bed, instantly lamenting her choice to leave the candles for Urbosa’s return. They flickered incessantly and threw strange shapes on the wall. She tried closing her eyes and concentrating on her breath. The night air was crisp and clean, with the lightest touch of moisture thanks to the network of canals guiding water through the palace. The faint bubbling should have relaxed her, but it only added to the noise. She heard sand seals and bandits in the distance, and women telling stories to each other in town. Her blanket was too warm and the air too chilled. Her body began to buzz, pressed in on all sides by a sinister magic.

Fortunately, her champion was not gone long. Steady, confident footsteps echoed on the marble floors, disciplining all chaos with their rhythm, and then stopped in the doorway. She removed her footwear and sailed silently through the room, gently puffing the candles into darkness.

No longer assailed by the light, Zelda opened her eyes. Urbosa’s muscles glowed in the moonbeams that billowed through the curtains. She was standing at a table, broad back flexing as she removed her jewelry piece by piece. Most of it, Zelda knew, was protective. She could sense the magic, though not always what it was for. Some of it was purely decorative. At least one piece was of great sentimental value. Urbosa never spoke of that one, but every time she let her hair loose, she brought the band to her lips before setting it down. The armor came off next, then a cloth, dipped in a basin, to remove the colors and sweat and sand from her face. 

Without ornamentation, Urbosa’s deadly strength and intensity came into sharp relief. Her red hair cascaded over bulging shoulders that broke its flow like rocks in a stream. Her aquiline nose, no longer contending with fussy gold bands, seemed chiseled from stone in the silver moonlight, lending her proud profile a sense of timelessness. Her lips were still full and dark without their blue pigment.

Of all the champions, including her little knight, Urbosa was Zelda’s most devoted and trusting servant. Their friendship had been forged in political necessity, but it was Urbosa’s dedication to Zelda’s mission that had seasoned her affection for the warrior. The quality of her fondness for the Gerudo chief had changed over time, deepening into a bond of mutual respect and care. She owed the chief her life several times over, but that wasn’t the core of their attachment. Zelda discovered that Urbosa helped to reveal her better self, as if their energies resonated so powerfully that they shook loose all doubt and inhibition. She was more than a protector (and she was much more of a protector than Link ever could be); she was a safe harbor, or a warm hearth. She was the place Zelda could let herself fracture into pieces in anger or despair. She was a home.

But Gerudo City was not home, and Zelda knew she couldn’t extend this trip any longer. The desert had given its final answer. What she couldn’t find in the sand may yet wait in mountains or fire, or perhaps in waters she hadn’t tested yet. There were so many corners of these ancient lands that she hadn’t probed.

The princess watched the chief’s still face as she stared off into the distance, and was gripped by a sudden panic that today was the day she had crushed Urbosa’s hopes, as well. She didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t bear the possibility that her steady champion would give up on her. “I’m sorry,” she said desperately. “I really thought it would be here.”

The Gerudo did not startle at the outburst, but slowly shifted her eyes to the girl in her bed. Her smile was kind. “You will fail many more times before this is over, princess. What you’re searching for will find you in time.”

Zelda felt her heart collapse and pull toward the emptiness in her stomach. She curled on her side and forced her breaths into a slow, laborious rhythm lest they accelerate beyond her control.

After a long moment, Urbosa climbed into the bed and settled behind her. “Zelda, it’s okay to be disappointed.”

“Don’t coddle me, Urbosa.” The champion drew in a long breath, considering her next response. The princess didn’t give her the opportunity. “Please just hold me. I can’t bear to think about this anymore.” 

Zelda turned her back to her bedmate and matched the curve of her body. Even when she was feeling like a failure, perhaps especially then, Zelda liked how the Gerudo made her feel small. She pressed herself against Urbosa’s firm stomach, and began to relax as the woman’s powerful limbs enclosed her: a bicep under her neck, an arm around her waist, legs bent to cradle her body. Urbosa radiated warmth like the sand. Zelda felt that if she could only absorb enough of it, if she could draw that life-affirming energy into herself, it would grant her the strength and the confidence to finally pull her pieces together for the sake of her fragile kingdom.

Zelda covered her companion’s hand as it lightly stroked her stomach, trying, she imagined, to heal the wound that was so deep and so invisible. It was working – she could feel a warmth spreading through the emptiness, loosening her knotted insides. Breathing became so easy that a dizziness began to settle in. She relished every inhalation. That’s when she sensed Urbosa’s hesitation, which felt like rejection and made her desperate to close the gap between them. Zelda arched her back and guided the Gerudo’s hand toward her chest. She complied, but was careful to massage only her least sensitive areas. The wandering hand found its way to her cheek, offering a soothing stroke. The princess caught a finger between her lips, scraped it with her teeth, and then moved it more pointedly toward her breast.

Urbosa resisted the pull. “Zelda…”

“I’m not a child,” she snapped, fingers flexing on the strong knuckles. There was a long silence in which she could feel the chief weighing her options. Zelda turned her head so that her forehead rested on her champion’s lips. Then, barely a whisper: “Please. Just once more before I leave.” 

Zelda suspected Urbosa had loved her mother more deeply than anyone knew, or she never would have acquiesced so easily the first time. That night, in the darkness and without a word, drunk on their mutual longing for the departed queen’s presence, the champion brought her princess to a mind-splitting climax. They had barely moved the entire time. They had never talked about it. It had lingered between them silently for days.

Breath quickening, Zelda tugged the strong fingers again to her breast. She had done the same that night, compelled by the deep bond they had forged wandering the desert together. Urbosa had saved her life, again. They made camp and talked about her mother. The chief slipped into the past, getting lost in memories as she was wont to do. Zelda reclined on her champion to listen to her stories, then writhed against her in the dwindling firelight. She pressed their hands together between her legs until Urbosa couldn’t stop the inevitable. When they awoke at dawn, still embracing, they packed their things and returned to town.

The princess shuddered in relief when Urbosa’s nails finally brushed her nipple. Strong fingers began a steady stroke over the fabric of her gown, each pass sending a shock between her legs. Zelda whimpered as she felt everything swell—lips, nipples, labia—mindful of the guards posted down the hall. 

Whatever misgivings Urbosa might have had were crowded out by the torrent of sensations chewing on her in the moment, not the least of which was Zelda’s firm rump winding insistently into her groin. Without thinking, she pushed back on her while massaging her breasts, marveling at the boldness of this behavior from a young woman who barely believed herself capable of doing the job for which she was bred and trained. It had been a long, failed day, and it might have taken hours to talk the princess down enough to sleep. Urbosa was relieved to have another option to help her relax.

She was quite like her mother, indeed.

The champion knew if Zelda’s enjoyment continued to spiral out of control, the guards might come check on them. They were Urbosa’s loyal servants, but she cared enough about the respect of her people not to court scandal. Few outsiders were willing to understand the sophisticated ways that the Gerudo dealt with love and intimacy. Fewer still gave the princess credit for having her own needs or desires. Zelda was trained better than to risk pregnancy outside of her royal obligations, but she was a living, breathing woman as well. A Hylian could never make sense of this scene, and Urbosa’s people would suffer the consequences. 

Decisively, Urbosa brought her other hand around, restrained her tightly, and covered Zelda’s mouth. They lay still and slowed their breathing, Urbosa’s grip and Zelda’s sweat binding them together.

Zelda thought if she could go through life held firm like this, she would never be afraid or uncertain again. If she could wear a suit of armor that could press her so exquisitely as Urbosa’s muscles, she could seal all evil in the world away forever. The pressure in her loins continued to build, but she obeyed her champion’s steady inhales. Urbosa bent Zelda’s neck back to its limit, and the princess almost came when she whispered roughly in her ear. “I don’t know how this ends if they find us. Control yourself.”

The princess conjured all the focus she had developed in her daily devotions to quiet herself. She was pleased to discover that hours spent pleading silently to the goddesses for some sign of her powers had prepared her for something, at least. Urbosa did not release her mouth, but began to stroke her nipples again when she was sufficiently still. Zelda allowed her hips to pulse lightly against her champion, and expressed her satisfaction by sinking her teeth into the Gerudo’s palm. 

Urbosa teased her for an eternity. Bronze hand wandered lightly over milky body, occasionally circling a nipple or pressing down on the mound that was aching to be explored. When Zelda could feel her juices finally start to leak down her thigh, Urbosa hooked her legs with her own and opened her up, finally releasing her mouth. “Remember what I said.”

It wouldn’t take long. Zelda was so wet that she barely registered Urbosa’s fingers circling her labia at first, but when they found her swollen button she twitched and clamped her mouth shut. She was too entangled in the Gerudo to move much, but her entire body hummed with the energy it was about to release.

When the first wave of her orgasm hit her, Zelda swallowed her scream and arched against her champion’s solid body. She didn’t know her cunt was capable of such rapid spasms, nor that a strong arm across her chest could immobilize her so completely. Urbosa continued to milk contractions out of her until the princess began to go numb.

All of the intensities of the day collapsed into a single point. Zelda swore she could see stars, and a goddess, and a future for her kingdom. She slowly surrendered to Urbosa’s embrace, body slumping into the shape imposed by the champion’s cradle of limbs. They softened together, and the chief wiped the sweat from her princess’s brow.

“Sleep, little bird. Tomorrow is a new day.”

Urbosa never revealed that Zelda’s mother had called her a bird because she knew the crown was a cage. They had both looked to the free women of the sand for a way out.

 

* * *

 

How does one remain focused for hundreds of years? Zelda had long since lost track of time. Drifting endlessly from dream to waking dream, she could no longer untangle distant past from potential future, legend and fantasy from the solid rock of the mountains. But her body: her body was always in the present, bound to the beast in a sickening morass of ancient magic. A sludgy dance of darkness and light. She had spent all those years seeking wisdom with her brilliant mind, but it had finally erupted, unbidden, from a deep reservoir in her core. It had always been inside her, and no persuasion could have forced it out before it was ready. Urbosa had known all along. 

Urbosa had been dead for a very long time. Of this, she was certain.

Grief mucked up her guts every time she phased back into her body, but now she gathered it to fuel her duty: an offering of the beloved dead to serve the vulnerable living. Zelda’s very bones thrummed with the continual effort of holding the great evil at bay. She could feel no sign of a hero returning to the land, and allowed her mind to drift away again. She prayed the next destination would be half as sweet.


End file.
